by Andrew Iddon
He stood up, and walked towards the door, meeting with one of his soldiers, Jay Deeks. He followed the private towards the next room over. Inside the room stood the Patriarch, a few Imperium and Amarosian doctors, and Colonel Carlin. Greg walked over, and greeted Carlin excitedly.
Greg was told that he had been in a coma for a day. They were all standing around a central bed, and on the bed was the broken, decrepit body of the Nazi he had killed earlier. He walked up towards the head of the bed, stood next to Carlin, and watched as they removed the armor from the body.
The Imperium surgeon began to analyse as he cleaned it up, “Judging by the particular style and design of the amour, I would say it is definitely a Nazi soldier of some kind. However, I haven’t yet seen this particular make. His helmet is much different than the other infantry; as opposed to having two red eye lenses he seems to have a full red face visor, allowing him a wider range of peripheral vision.”
The surgeon turned a couple of nozzles, and pushed a few pressure sticks, quickly discovering how to remove the helmet. He lifted the visor part off the rest of the helmet, and set it on a side table, next to his tools.
Underneath the helmet was a very strange sight. The face of the enemy was now visible, but it wasn’t a human face, well, not exactly human.
Deeks gulped as they examined the Nazi’s incomplete face; the Nazi was pale, young, and sickly looking. He had white eyes, ghostly white eyes, no hair on his face at all, none on his head or eyebrows. His skin was soft and smooth, but not diverse or unique; it was rather plain, didn’t seem real, it was almost like a porcelain doll. There were no imperfections, no freckles or moles, no wrinkles. Apart from his complexion, his face was perfect.
The armor was thick; the design nearly genius. It was built to absorb and deflect as many projectiles or weapons as it could. It was attractive, stylish and terrifying, all at the same time. It was not only built for defence and comfort, but for intimidation, to scare their enemies into submitting.
They slowly removed the chest plate and neck guard. It revealed the gruelling dagger wound in the Nazi’s throat, and all the bumps and bruises that littered his chest and shoulders. They had a little trouble getting the leg armor off, due to the tangled, broken leg that everyone groaned at when they saw. Greg smiled to himself with pride, happy that he inflicted such a wound on a far superior being.
The surgeon was shocked at the sheer size of this man, and noted, “This is strange. This man is seven feet tall exactly. I have never seen a person of that height.”
“What do you make of the physical attributes? It is strange to see someone with no hair, or color in his eyes,” replied Deeks.
“It is hard to say at this point; it’s almost as if he has no genes, but that is just a theory,” replied the surgeon.
“No genes?” asked Greg.
“Yes. Nothing to distinguish him as an individual. There are no identifiable parts to this man; he is perfectly symmetrical, has absolutely no blemishes or anything of the sort. He has perfect teeth, perfect facial structure, and not a hair on his body. A lot of attributes one would gain from their parents, such as freckles or red hair.”
Greg then glanced over at the Patriarch, who looked quite disturbed at the whole situation.
Greg began, “Well, a Nazi soldier managed to get through your security, and attacked me on your territory. The war has already arrived. How long before the rest of his comrades come? How long before you have these monsters running rampant throughout your streets, murdering your children and women, and enslaving your kind, until you die off like a rat infestation? Do what is right for your people, and help us. For the greater good, you owe it to the Amarosian people.”
The Patriarch looked over at Greg with red eyes, which slowly turned yellow to his eventual conclusion. The Patriarch nodded along, and sent his courier to deliver the message to the conclave that war was upon them. Bells rang, and Amarosians began to scurry about the streets collecting weapons and provisions.
Greg was amazed at the organization; the Amarosians were preparing themselves for long periods of time without food or water, and they were gathering weapons to defend themselves if invaded. Large plasma cannons sprouted from towers and rooftops, to shoot incoming air ships and the streets began to fill with able bodied soldiers. Greg was impressed; the rest of the Imperium soldiers and doctors were impressed. Greg had done the Imperium a huge favor by getting the Amarosians on board, even if it was by accident.
His troubles still were not over yet. He had to discover where this Nazi giant came from, and how he knew who Greg was, or why he had attacked Greg in the first place. Heilagur was far away from the conflicts between the Nazis and Imperium; how a lone soldier of such size and magnitude found his way here seemed baffling, and beyond his knowledge at this particular point in time.
Everything that could be done on Heilagur had been done. Their mission was complete, and the Amarosians were secured in fighting alongside the Imperium.
As Greg made his way to the ships to take off, the Patriarch stopped him before the main entrance. With him was a very tall, fit young Amarosian warrior, fully equipped with a blade and decorative armor. Greg knew what the Patriarch wanted, and the Patriarch knew he didn’t need to explain much to him.
“This is my son, Karaliskos, royal warrior, and crusader of the gods. He shall be my eyes and ears on your expedition; he shall be my gift to you to honor the alliance between us and the Imperium. He will keep you safe, and you will keep him safe. He is a mark of trust; should you let him fall, our friendship shall fall with him.”
Greg nodded, and shook hands with the Patriarch, and then his son. The Prince didn’t understand the gesture, and so felt uncomfortable when Greg held out his hand. Greg understood, and decided to just pat his shoulder, and motioned him towards the ships, trying to spring up a conversation with him along the way, but ended up just awkwardly talking to himself.
Greg, feeling like an idiot, and Karaliskos, feeling quite out of place, journeying with a band of disgusting humans, both entered the ship. They watched and remained silent as they put Heilagur behind them, slowly moving farther and farther away.
Greg went up to the cockpit, and asked where their next destination was. The pilot opened up a few screens and windows on his monitor, and pointed towards the Omega quadrant. Greg questioned further as to what exactly in the Omega quadrant was there to find, and the pilot simply said, “We are headed towards some planet called Planet Seven.”
“Planet Seven?” questioned Greg, “What the hell is on there?”
“Something or other to do with a doctor or a scientist. A Dr. Groebner. The Emperor was rather sketchy on the details,” replied the pilot.
Greg decided not to question any further, for the pilot was not the best interpreter. He sat back down beside Carlin and Karaliskos, and tried to get some rest.
CHAPTER 16
He awoke several hours later to see that he was alone in the passenger section; he curiously walked back towards the cockpit to find everyone including the Amarosian staring through the window.
Greg stepped up next to him to see another rather disappointing sight; there was a fleet of Nazi ships orbiting Planet Seven. Greg swore to himself, while punching the wall; the Nazis seemed to be everywhere, and were always one step ahead. He was just thinking of how ridiculous this was; he couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a German of some kind.
He paused in his fit, as something else caught his eye; there was another fleet of ships alongside the Nazis. They tried to get a good angle on the emblem, but didn’t want to get too close as to alert the enemy to their presence.
The pilot looked closer and finally spoke, when he discovered something, “Hey look, there’s only about a dozen Nazi ships in that fleet. The rest aren’t the same colour or shape. I was on Nassau when the Nazi’s invaded. Their ships are black and red; thes
e other ships are dark grey and white. I can’t make out the emblem on the side from this distance.”
They were also different shapes compared to the Nazi ships. Greg recognized those colours, but he couldn’t exactly put his mind on it. The small Imperium fleet glided to the side of the unsuspecting enemy ships, and were just out of radar range, allowing them to make their move towards the surface.
Greg didn’t expect them to be able to pull it off; the other ships must not have had such advanced technology, most common in private or mercenary organizations. Just then it came to him, “It says UI on the side of those ships, Universal Incorporated! The Chairman was here, and he survived! But wait, what the hell are his ships doing side by side with Nazi vessels?” Greg exclaimed
Greg’s crew landed in a bog, not far from a nearby settlement. The entire planet seemed to be coated in fog, a thick fog. It was the perfect cover for their landing. The sounds of swamp bugs and creatures did fairly well in hiding the ships exhaust noise as well, and Greg, Carlin, and Karaliskos were the first to disembark. Karaliskos cringed as he stepped into a sticky puddle, almost losing his balance in the process. Greg and Carlin laughed amongst themselves at how fragile and germ-phobic the Amarosians were. They may have been excellent warriors and priests, but they were terrible outdoorsmen, and campers.
The three told their soldiers to guard the ships as they made their way to the settlement, what seemed to be the only settlement on the entire planet. They emerged from the trees near a shabby and rusted gate, and, standing in front of the gate, were two Universal Inc. troopers. They raised their weapons in alarm, yelling at the trio to reveal themselves. Greg raised his arms, and walked towards them, making sure to keep calm. Carlin stayed behind, and Karaliskos just stood there, puzzled.
The Amarosians weren’t as accustomed to human behaviour; he didn’t fully understand the passive hand gestures, or the surrendering signs. He saw the guards weapons raised, and decided to take action. Before Greg could even turn around, Karaliskos had run around their backs, and, using his sleek and decorative sword, severed the first guard’s spine, and decapitated the second, with two swings.
Greg dropped his hands, and quietly yelled at him, but then commended him on his handiwork; it was very slick and cleanly done. Karaliskos nodded, and sheathed his weapon. Carlin emerged from the trees, and they all entered the creaky, rusted gates into the settlement.
Greg and his fellows approached what seemed to be the central hub or town hall, so to speak, of this particular village. He slowly pushed open the doors, and peeked inside. The inside was large, dark, and it spanned far and deep beneath the earth. He waved the others to follow as he began to walk down the hallway towards the elevator.
They were surprised at the lack of security; maybe they were trying not to arouse suspicion. They entered, and began the descent; it was a long trip, quiet and dark, and they all stood there completely silent, as the elevator music dinged in their heads. Carlin began to hum the tune to the elevator song; Greg scowled at him, comically, and Carlin cleared his throat before stopping.
The elevator came to a stop, and the crew walked further down the hallway. They stopped in front of a set of double doors; they could hear voices from the other side.
“I hear voices, but I can’t make out what they are saying; they must be speaking another language,” said Greg.
“It sounds German, but it isn’t the same dialect; it could be maybe Austrian or Dutch,” replied Carlin.
“Well, they sound in distress; something must be going wrong,” said Karaliskos quietly.
“Listen. It sounds like they are leaving. Shall we take a peek inside, my friend?” asked Carlin jokingly.
Greg nodded, and slowly pushed the door closest to him open. It creaked ever so slightly as it revealed to him the room inside.
He poked his head in to see that no one was there, so he and the other two crept in, and walked over to the large window covering the entire wall. They made sure to keep their heads down, so as not to be seen, forcing Karaliskos to duck even farther because of his height and elongated head.
Greg and Carlin grabbed the window ledge, and raised their heads just high enough to see into the room below. The room was incredible, massive in scale, the size of a tank depot, or star port; it was white, bright, and what was contained in the room made Greg’s stomach drop.
Inside the room in huge square formations, standing at attention, were thousands of Nazi soldiers. The soldiers were not even the regular infantry. They were all the same soldiers that Greg had fought, back on Heilagur; he recognized the helmets, and sat back down.
Greg nearly died, and lost his head, to one of these guys; just imagining fighting an army of them seemed impossible. He began to moan in despair.
“How the hell are we supposed to beat that? I nearly lost my god damn head to just one of those gargantuan assholes. How are we supposed to beat a fucking army of them?” groaned Greg.
“I have no idea, but all I know is, we got ourselves one hell of a war on our hands. There are letters on their uniforms, and on those banners along the walls; they say SS. I wonder what that means. Hang on, Greg. Come look; that looks like the Nazi leader,” replied Carlin.
They peered over the ledge to see a single aisle between the army of perfectly organized super soldiers. In between the aisle walked the Chancellor himself, Friedrich von Richthofen. Greg jumped a little upon seeing him. The Chancellor was here, and if they could find his office or sleeping quarters, they could take him out once and for all today.
Greg continued to watch as the Nazi warlord paced up and down the middle of his men, inspecting them carefully. As he passed, the soldiers saluted with the traditional German WWII salute.
A voice then rang out beyond the saluting and stomping; it started off quiet so Greg couldn’t recognize it, but as it grew louder, he began to realize.
“Well, Friedrich? How do you like your new secret weapons? I call them the Nazi SS Elites. These are the perfect soldiers, taller, stronger, and faster than any other living man; and the best part about them is they are soulless. Without a soul they cannot fail; without a soul they cannot show mercy; they cannot betray; they cannot run. These soulless demons will carry out their orders unto their dying breaths, killing or maiming anyone you tell them to. They will kill an infant child if you told them to, and they wouldn’t feel any remorse”, the voice said.
Upon finishing the speech, the voice became clear, as the man speaking entered the room from underneath the office in which Greg was hiding. He walked out, and greeted the Chancellor in the middle of the aisle. Greg looked at his back, and, as he turned around to look at the entirety of the army, his suspicions were confirmed.
“It’s the Chairman! What is he doing here?” said Greg, disgusted with this revelation. “So much for going down with his city, the lying bastard.”
“What do you mean?” asked Carlin.
“I was in Mandredar City when the Nazis first arrived. The Chairman had destroyed the American garrison, and taken control of the city for himself. Now I get it. He was softening his own defences so the Germans could take this city without much resistance.”
“Well, look at it through his perspective. All he cares about is profit; he’d step on his mother’s head to get a dollar. This is war, a perfect situation to solidify industry,” explained Carlin.
Greg’s heart sunk once more; he had been betrayed, again, and he felt like there was no one left to trust. Who was next, the Amarosians? What about Vulture, and the Skullz?
Greg leaned back, and looked through the window again. There had to be about ten thousand SS Elite soldiers or more, and they all looked battle hardened, and ready for war. Their red dome helmets all in square formations began to play tricks on his eyes; as he shook his head to realign his vision, the Chairman began to speak again.
“Everything seems to be
perfect, Mr. Richthofen, all except one thing. You see, it’s neither easy nor cheap to make a fully functioning clone SS Elite, and, believe me, I know. This, I am afraid, is all the clones I can afford at this time. These ten thousand and the other couple hundred or so you have already deployed in the field are just the beginning. The cloning process needs more time before it is perfected, and Dr. Groebner is working as fast as he can. We still have not perfected it; as you have probably noticed, the Aryan model is not yet functional. DNA is harder to play with than we originally anticipated. Having said that, the data you retrieved from Nassau and of course the leftover data from Project Genesis, definitely helped. I estimate that the Aryan SS Elite models will be out before the month’s end. I have put enough of my hard earned money into this project, and you have the support of Universal Incorporated.
I know you are in a hurry, so I shall leave my fleet here to protect this facility. You should take all your vessels with you. The Imperium might get a little nosy seeing Nazi ships orbiting such a random and unknown planet. I won’t station too many ships or guards here, either. People might start thinking we have something important to protect, so load up your men. You should have an SS or two for every infantry squad you have, so they have a strong leader to keep them in line”, said the Chairman.
The Chancellor simply turned his head towards the Chairman, and said, “Do I tell you how to run your company? Do I tell you how you stack your papers, and shine your shoes, while you sit behind a desk and frolic in your riches? Do I tell you how to expand your wealth?”
The Chairman shook his head; then the Chancellor said, “Then let me run my regime the way I am to run it; if I fail, then it was meant to be.”
The Chairman nervously nodded, and then turned to leave through the maze of Nazi SS Elites.
Friedrich walked up the hall of soldiers until he reached a forward-facing podium. He stood up on the podium, and began to lecture his men; he was, however, speaking in German, so Greg couldn’t understand.